


Ribs

by thecloneofyourclone



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Election Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, I'm Bad At Tagging, Memories, Reminiscing, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecloneofyourclone/pseuds/thecloneofyourclone
Summary: After the L'Manberg presidential election and the chase that ensued afterward, Tommy and Wilbur reflect on their actions.The memory of L'Manberg does not rot, but the ground it stood on certainly can.this dream isnt feeling sweet.
Kudos: 105





	Ribs

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic ive ever written...ever. As in ever; this is my first fic and i'm kind of happy with it. I just wanted to explore a different path because everyone jokes about how wilbur is old (even though he's not that old) and i just wanted to write some angst! I do like angst fics lol. I had the idea last night because of all the running and digging and threatening and asses. Hope ya like it!

As he ran, the echo of Schlatt's calls for their demise rang through the air. Wilbur really should have made the speakers quieter; there was no need for all this reverb. Even in the bunker, he could hear him clearly. _"We are entering into a new period of L'Manberg, a period of **prosperity!** Of **strength!** Of unity. And fat asses- oh my god, turn around!"_

Prosperity, his ass. Not Big Q's ass, though. No, the...figurative ass. You know what, maybe no one's ass. He was just trying to diss Schlatt to make himself feel better. A symphony of _yessirs_ filled his ears and by that time, Wilbur met up with him. It was time to go. He didn't know where, and as much as he wanted to believe Wilbur knew where, he knew he didn't know, either. He dug into the ocean that sat near the small town they'd all set up together so long ago as Tubbo was called to be Schlatt's right-hand man.

This betrayal was something different. It was different from Eret's. Eret was their friend, of course, and his betrayal was not downplayed by this one. However, Tubbo had been Tommy's friend. They'd done so much together, like watched the sunset as his favorite disc played, built a nation together, protected each other from harm. It was inconceivable that he would betray him, yet here they were, watching from the top of a tower, as Schlatt wrapped an arm around Tubbo and muttered in his ear, "Take care of Wilbur and Tommy."

Only an hour later, they were running through the forest, losing the people who were after them. Wilbur's long legs could hardly carry him and Tommy was panting behind him, the crunch of leaves and sticks under their feet. Wilbur came to a stop in front of him, bending a bit and putting his hands on his knees. Tommy slowed down and came beside him, watching as he wheezed. His entire body shook and the moment of fragility coming from his mentor, the man who felt less like a friend more like an older brother, frightened him. "Wilbur? Wilbur, are you okay?" He bent down to look at him but was waved away.

"I'm fine," he panted. "I just need to catch my breath."

"Are you sure, Wilbur?"

"Why wouldn't I be sure?" His words had a cut to them as if he believed he was questioning him. He tilted his head towards him, his brows furrowed and his eyes sunken and tired.

"I-I just want to make sure." Tommy stood back up and caught his breath rather quickly, looking around the shrouded area. "We...are quite a ways away from L'Manberg, huh?" Wilbur didn't answer, but Tommy wasn't looking for one. He was just worried. Panicked may have been a better word, actually. He looked around and quickly walked toward the hill, looking at it. "We should hide, become hobbits for right now." That felt like something Wilbur would want, but once again, he didn't answer him. Tommy assumed it was time to become a hobbit and started digging into the side of the hill. 

Eventually, Wilbur looked to the sky, his body still trembling with anxiety and physical strain. He watched the stars as they blinked overhead, remaining quiet. Tommy didn't bother him out of fear that might take him out of this moment of tranquility. After a few minutes, when he was nearly done digging the small hole where they would sleep for the night, Wilbur turned to him and asked, "Tommy, what do you make of this?"

He stopped and looked at him with his confused and weary face. "What do I make of what?"

"Was the election the step in the right direction or was it a mistake?"

He thought about it for a few moments, his hands slowing down the progress being made on the hole. "I think..." The election sounded like a good idea at the time. It was fun and at that time, it didn't matter who won. Of course, he would've _liked_ to win, but if Wilbur and he lost while Big Q and George took over, that would've been fine. It was like Wilbur said: Quackity cared about L'Manberg. If he won, L'Manberg was in great hands.

The election was comedic. It was light hearted. It was content. Wilbur and he got Vikkstar to endorse them, and Schlatt was more than willing to do so himself. Tricks seemed to be flying out of their sleeves; what other choice did they have? Schlatt was funny, he was popular, and he had a way with words. It was the obvious choice. Tommy couldn't help but wonder if that night was part of his plan. Was Schlatt always after the presidency or did he lose it in his senile state? It reminded him that Wilbur was older than Schlatt, and that worried him more so. If Schlatt was this way, how would Wilbur be? Surely, not as bad. He knew Wilbur- but he also knew a lot could change about a man with dimentia.

What could he tell Wilbur? This was all his idea; if he said this was a horrible idea from the start, he wouldn't be completely telling the truth nor would he be sparing his feelings. Inside, though, he believed this _was_ a bit of a bad idea. They founded L'Manberg; it almost seemed natural that they would run until Wilbur decided to pull a George Washington and leave voluntarily, leaving the presidency to someone else. 

At the same time, this was not an entirely bad idea. Like he said, it was _fun._ The night when George didn't show up alongside his runningmate, the arguments that ensued, the hilarity of getting people to endorse their side or the other's...it was all so fun. It was commentary and it was hilarious. He quite liked the past few days and, although this night would stand out in his memory as the worst night of his life, he would remember the entire campaign fondly.

"I think..."

"You've been thinking for a while," Wilbur teased with a tired smile.

"I-I know..."

"Don't be scared to tell me what you think, Tommy. You..." He sniffed but quickly wiped his face with one hand. "You're not a war hero for nothing. What you say to me will never make me view you any different."

Tommy looked down at the ground and thought for another moment before admitting, "I think it was both a good and bad idea. There were some flaws in the plan, but there were also great moments."

Wilbur nodded in agreeance with him, lifting up his hand to cough into. It was a small cough that Tommy thought may have been from him breathing in air wrong, but slowly, it turned into a fit and that fit threw him to his knees. Tommy stopped digging, wiped the dirt off his hands, and quickly came to his side to make sure he was alright. There weren't any words to say. The coughs died down and he took a raspy breath in before whispering, "I'm fine."

"Wilbur, you're not fine."

"I'm _fine."_

"You're _not_ fine-"

"Tommy, I am telling you that I am fine!"

That made him back off. 

Tommy continued working until there was a nice cave for them to sit in. He took an extra torch from his hip and stuck it into the wall before lighting it, watching as Wilbur's eyes locked closed as he sat against the wall. "Wilbur?"

"What is it, Tommy?" he asked quietly.

"What do you think Tubbo's doing?"

He grimaced at the sound of his name and replied, "Tearing down our walls."

Tommy took the spot beside him and curled into a ball before sighing. Wilbur looked at him before letting his eyes close back up. "I miss Tubbo."

"I know you do."

Up until this point, Tommy had been holding himself back. He had stood strong in front of Wilbur like he would have done for him. Like he had already done for him a thousand times before. He thought about it over and over, telling himself _don't cry_ until the feeling left him. He wondered if Tubbo was crying, too, and if it was over Tommy and Wilbur and the job he had taken. That hurt the most; Tubbo was Schlatt's right-hand man. He felt his face getting hot as tears welled up in his eyes but he forced them back like he'd done more times than he could count today.

"What's Fundy doing?"

"Burning the flag."

The worst part about this whole situation was that Wilbur was so nonchalant about everything. Yes, these were most likely the things that were happening, but it hurt to hear. Fundy was a good man and he knew that, but good men could often turn bad with a flip of a switch. Who was it who flipped that switch? What happened? Was it their fault? He knew he wouldn't get the answer to these questions, but he thought about them anyway. Rationalised them. Tried to find an answer.

"W-Will, I wanna-"

He cut himself off with a sob and quickly wiped his face up. Wilbur frowned and gently rubbed his back, whispering, "It's okay, Tommy. We'll get L'Manberg back. Everything will get better."

"It's never been worse..."

"I know. I know, Tommy."

"I wanna go _home..."_

Wilbur's face was painted with sadness. There was nothing to do but frown and let Tommy cry. He knew he'd been holding it back for a while. It was strange; normally, Tommy got angry, never sad. "I know you do, Tommy. I want to go home, too. We'll get there."

"I know we will..." He sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeves, looking like a mess from all the crying and running and digging. Wilbur licked his thumb and wiped the dirt off his face, frowning when he became obstinate and leaned away from his hand. "Stop it-"

"I'm trying to get the dirt off your face."

"I know, but-"

"Tommy, don't be stubborn. You look like a dirty mess."

"I'm not fucking-"

"Tommy."

"Wilbur."

They stared at each other for a moment before Wilbur continued to clean his face and Tommy sat there, grumbling under his breath. "It's not my fault that you decided to dig into the hill. We could've ran farther- _I_ could've taken _that_ impact at my age- and built a little cabin. Could've been our little base."

"Well, _sorry_ that I was worried about your safety! You were wheezing like crazy! I doubt you could've ran any farther. Plus, you were over here falling asleep not that long ago."

"That doesn't mean anything. We need distance between civilization and us." He finished cleaning his face and sighed. "Lord, what am I going to do with you? You never fail to get yourself into trouble."

Tommy sighed and stared at the ceiling before asking, "What are we going to do tomorrow?"

Wilbur hummed in thought and said, "We should go back in secret. Steal shit."

"Stab shit?"

"Just steal, probably." Wilbur took his hat off and scooted further down until he was laying. He folded his hat into a small square and used it as a pillow, and Tommy followed suit.

"Hey, Wilbur?"

"Yes, Tommy?"

"...Thank you for being here."

Wilbur smiled and said, "Thank _you_ for being here, Tommy. I understand this is hard for you, but I'm glad you know it's hard for me, too. You're a good kid."

"And a war hero."

 _"And_ a war hero."

Tommy smiled and curled into the fetal position, a position Wilbur thought appropriate for a kid like him. He turned towards the entrance of their small cave and closed his eyes, beginning to drift off. Just as he was nearing the edge of sleep, he heard a man outside the hole. He didn't say much and it certainly didn't seem valuable at the first listen, but he bent down with his crown of gold and peered into their quarters. He recognized them immediately and his voice echoed as he asked, "Did someone say REBELLION?"

That was how they got their secret weapon: a lowly potato farmer from not too far away with a story to tell that involved a duel, a dream, and a victory for him.


End file.
